


For Tonight

by memorydd



Category: Ensemble Stars! (Video Game)
Genre: M/M, fluff i guess?, with a bit of introspection?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-04
Updated: 2015-12-04
Packaged: 2018-05-04 21:20:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,041
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5348906
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/memorydd/pseuds/memorydd
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Midori does not want to be here at all, but maybe this moment proves that it doesn't have to be as bad as he first thought.</p>
            </blockquote>





	For Tonight

**Author's Note:**

> just a short self-indulgent fic because my feels for chiaki and midochia just reached a point where i felt like i needed to write a little something on them. i started it with a certain direction in mind and it just went off on it's own and i don't even know anymore by the time i was done writing, haha-

Midori can’t sleep…He really can’t sleep. He is going to be a walking dead tomorrow and it’s all Morisawa-senpai’s fault. Every unfortunate event that has occurred ever since he stepped foot in Yumenosaki Academy are all Morisawa-senpai’s fault. Hearing that over energetic voice or seeing that face which lights up brighter than a thousand suns is always the high telling signs of a foreboding disaster.

He knew a hurricane of misfortunate event was going to hit his life once again this morning when Morisawa-senpai nearly broke the door off its hinges (okay, maybe that’s a little over exaggerating, but it’s bound to happen one day) and burst into his room as early as seven with a loud, “Takamine, get up! You’re running late!”

“Running late for what?” he had mumbled through his sheets before they were mercilessly yanked off him.

“Basketball training camp of course!”

He thought he had said that he wasn’t going but alas, either Morisawa-senpai didn’t understand his message—when did he ever—or he just wasn’t taking no for an answer. Nevertheless, he ended up being whisked out of the room against his own will and had his things haphazardly stuffed into his sports bag for him (“Senpai, please don’t touch my stuff as you please…” goes unheard).

He didn’t get to pack his own things. Meaning, he didn’t get to put in at least one of his mascot character plushies into his bag. Meaning, he currently is not surrounded by the familiarity of his plushies and has nothing to hug. Meaning…

Yes, he can’t sleep.

He can’t sleep while the person on the futon beside him has been snoring ever since the lights went off two hours ago—at least he thinks it’s been two hours already. Midori glares at the dark ceiling with all the pent up frustration in the world.

This isn’t fair…

“What’s wrong?”

He nearly jumps up in surprise when a familiar voice laced with sleepiness sounds.

“I thought you were asleep…” Midori says through the darkness as he watches the form next to him shift for a moment before averting his gaze back to the ceiling.

A yawn. “I was.” Morisawa-senpai makes a sound in his throat and then speaks again. “Can’t sleep?”

Midori nods, not sure if it can be seen in the darkness.

“Bad dream?”

He shakes his head and turns on his side to look the other way.

“Ah…Is it because you don’t have your mascot characters with you?”

He flinches. “How…”

His senpai laughs. “Well, with that many plushies on your bed it must feel out of place not to have them around, right?”

Midori can feel his face heating up at the remark and isn’t sure if the statement in itself just sounds embarrassing when said out loud—a high school boy who can’t sleep without his plushies—or is it because Morisawa-senpai of all people is able to notice something like this.

“Come here,” he hears and before he can react to anything, he is turned around and Morisawa-senpai has slipped himself between his arms.

“M-Morisawa-senpai! W-What are you doing?” he stutters, shocked and flustered.

“Hn? Well, I’m not one of your plushies but you can hug me for tonight!”

Midori is stunned into silence, his mind doing a hundred of different things to process what his senpai just said yet doing absolutely nothing at all because wait, what?

“Um…no thank you…” he finally manages, barely, to say as he slowly pulls his arms away. They are instantly tugged back.

“It’s perfectly fine, no need to hold back! It’s kind of my fault you didn’t get to pack anything and that detail slipped my mind in the rush, so this is my way of making up for it!” Morisawa-senpai’s face is close enough for him to make out the grin on his face.

This proximity is way too close and he wonders if the other can see how red his face is because it sure feels hot enough to light up red in the darkness.    

“You really don’t have to…” Midori begins but Morisawa-senpai has already buried his head under Midori’s chin and draped an arm over his back, apparently not listening.

“Senpai…?” he says, but receives no reply. Not even a movement this time. He doesn’t get any other movement other than feeling the steady rise and fall of Morisawa-senpai’s chest against his and steady breathing against his collarbone.

Midori holds his breath and wonders if Morisawa-senpai knows—hopes that he doesn’t—that his breathing is doing funny and scary things to Midori's fast beating heart. Midori wonders if Morisawa-senpai knows that his stomach is twisting around itself in one knot after another and he hates it—hates, hates, hates this feeling just like how he hates Morisawa-senpai for breaking into his quiet life with a resounding bang and shattering of broken glass—shards of his old life and daily routine now in pieces.

But when Morisawa-senpai lets out a sigh of contentment in his sleep, Midori finds himself letting go of the breath he was holding back as well. The knots in his stomach uncoil and what he feels afterwards are butterflies as if a magician has just flicked his wand in a finishing act.   

Midori relaxes and buries his face into Morisawa-senpai’s hair, and finds the sudden courage to tighten his hold and pulls him a bit closer. He doesn’t understand his feelings at all just like how he doesn’t understand this person in his arms.

Morisawa-senpai is a messy unstoppable force, pulling Midori along into unknown territories every single day. It’s scary, it’s horrifying, but he also knows—always has known—that he won’t ever be left behind even if he sometimes wishes to be.

To his surprise, Morisawa-senpai’s arms tighten around him as if knowing his thoughts, as if confirming him that, “yes, I’ll never let go”.  

Perhaps knowing just that is enough for now.

So Midori does the same. He relaxes and closes his eyes; the warmth in his arms and steady breathing now a comfort, a lullaby offering—if he would dare admit but maybe, just maybe for tonight it’s fine—more than his mountain of mascot plushies and stuffed animals at home ever could.


End file.
